


Anthropomancy

by Sh1k4r1



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood and Gore, Gore, Hurt, Hurt Noct Week, Hurt/Comfort, No beta we die like Noctis, Other, Pre-Canon, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 13:52:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16430645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sh1k4r1/pseuds/Sh1k4r1
Summary: Sixteen years old Noctis has to undergo a sacred ritual to know the full prophecy.





	Anthropomancy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for Hurt Noct Week. I'm publishing it on free day but it can be read as inspired from the prompt "Noct learns the truth of his fate/the full prophecy when he's still young"
> 
> **Trigger warning:** graphic depiction of violence, blood and gore.
> 
> Not beta read.

Despite the warmth in the chamber, Noctis couldn't stop shivering. Looking around in the dim light he took a deep breath, thick scent of burning incense filling his lungs. The room was exquisitely decorated, but he wasn't really in the mood for appreciating the fine details, his mind restlessly drifting from one fearful thought to the next. Endless minutes passed since Ignis had left him on a velvet cushioned bench to wait for his Shield to escort him to the Altar, still, apart from the drumming of his heart, everything was silent.

  


The boy sighed; for what he knew his father had tried to postpone the ritual for as long as he could, but with the increasing number of daemons spawning at night he finally had to give in the Council's pressure; on his sixteenth birthday the young Prince was to be subjected to an ancient ritual the Oracle herself would perform. Centuries had passed since last time the Gods had demanded such an offer, but so dark were the times no other choice was given. 

  


Noctis swallowed thickly; the Rite was today. He tried his best to keep it cool and steady himself, but it wasn't really something one could prepare for. To be completely honest a part of him wished he didn't know what was waiting ahead. When Gladiolus finally entered the room, the Prince sluggishly stood up, adjusted the royal black silken robes he was wrapped in and silently followed down the stairs to the shrine's inner sanctum. The atmosphere was still dense with the smoke of incense, but the sanctuary was brightly illuminated by magic. Noctis bit his lip; his Father and the whole Council stood around the circular room, staring at him as he slowly proceeded towards the Oracle.

All dressed in pure white, Lunafreya radiated even in the intense light. In her hands she held an alabaster chalice, which she offered to the Prince. Hesitantly he took it and brought it to his lips, sipping the bitter herbal potion. It tasted awful and he gagged a couple of times when swallowing it, but he tried his best not to waste a single drop of the medicine. He was so terrified his heart threatened to burst, yet his tense body quickly started to relax on the substance's effect. After Lunafreya helped him remove his robe he quietly laid down on the marble altar at the centre of the chamber; the hard stone felt soothingly cold on his heated skin.

"O Chosen, shall the Rite begin."

The Oracle stepped towards the Prince, a finely decorated Mythril ceremonial dagger held tight in her hands. Noctis shut his eyes, not wanting to see what was to happen; a chocked gasp fell from his lips as he felt sharp metal stinging on his skin. Of course he knew that, despite the narcotic Lunafreya made him drink earlier, the practice would hurt terribly, but he could have never anticipated how unbearable it would actually be. He hissed through gritted teeth as the blade sliced through his abdomen in an excruciatingly slow motion, the tears welled up in his eyes instantly staining his soft cheeks. Noctis bit on his lip, barely muffling a groan; no omen was worse than the offering screaming during the Rite, even more so in the case of one of royal blood. He couldn't afford being a disgrace to his ancestors, or worse make his dad worry, so he bore down the pain, knuckles tuned white as he gripped on the table not to shy away from the blade. It took all of Noctis' willpower to keep silent as Lunafreya dragged the knife past his navel, neatly cutting him open from right under his sternum all the way down to his pelvis. His vision blurred from the searing pain ripping through his lithe body, but the drug running through his veins kept him conscious. 

When the blade finally lifted from his flesh, the Prince breathed heavily through his nose, his jaw still clenched not to let out any noise. The glittering incision adorning his abdomen throbbed agonizingly. Lunafreaya gently caressed his sweaty hair, but little relief came from it; the worst part was yet to come.

Obviously the Prince had thoroughly been instructed on what the rite consisted of, the ominous image of it haunting his nights for months. So he knew exactly what to expect. The ancient ritual they were performing was called _anthropomancy_ , or the art of foreseeing the future and the Gods' will in the viscera of humans. Usually the offerings were high profile war prisoners, but in such dark ages the Crystal demanded the sacrifice of royal blood.

Noctis whimpered when Lunafreya's cold fingers brushed his skin, following the bloody gash on his stomach and infusing him with her magic. Back arched from the pain, the Prince only managed to keep from screaming by biting on his own fist hard enough to draw blood; Lunafreya's hands pulled at the edges of his wound, unveiling his glistening organs to the sight. Then she let her left hand slip inside Noctis' abdomen, a sickening slurping sound filling the air. Noctis softly cried, his body almost curling when icy fingers brushed the glistening crimson of his liver. Then the hand started moving down inside him, the pain steadily increasing until the final shot of the Oracle's right hand joining the other split him, tearing a grunt from his coarse throat. Noctis was blinded by then, the intruding ache of fingers exploring the velvety coils of his intestines making him choke on his own gurgled yelps. The prince started sobbing rather loudly as the excruciating procedure of reading his entrails went on, but as long as he didn't scream crying was allowed.

It wasn't fair that he had to go through this, yet he did it without any complain. After all it was his duty as the Prince to protect his people, and he would do it no matter the price, even if it meant to be gutted alive. When Noctis was Chosen from the Crystal as the True King, the Gods left unsaid what he had to actually do to Purge the Star; it didn't pass long long since the Council started pressing into having the Prince undergo anthropomancy to unveil the details of his task. In his pained delirium the Prince grimaced; no matter what the Gods wanted him to do to fulfil the Prophecy, it could never be worse than asking the Gods for the Prophecy itself, could it?

A metallic voice echoed in the chamber when the Oracle finally connected with the Gods, cryptic verses delivered from thin air. At the culmination of the prophecy Lunafreya's hands, stuck deep in the Prince's insides, unconsciously gripped around the glossy tubes of his bowels and tugged them out of his body in a nauseating wet noise, only covered by a low and chilling growl. Despite the lingering effect of the narcotic, by now Noctis was shaking uncontrollably. He shut his eyes, gritting his teeth through the tears and nausea as he tried to forget the sight of his bloody guts seeping out of his mangled body.

It felt like he spent hours suffering like that, lying open on the Altar as Lunafreya dissected him. Then, all of a sudden, the pain vanished as the Oracle's healing magic washed over him sealing his wound.

Noctis was still trembling violently when he sat down; he warily looked around the room, tracing the thick scar embellishing his blood smeared belly with his fingertips. It took him a few moments to realize his dad was holding him tight in his arms, soothingly brushing his hair. The King's eyes were filled with tears. 

  


"Why are you crying, dad?" Noctis slurred.

"I'm so sorry, my son."


End file.
